Chimera's Calling
by Safire Lupe
Summary: No. This is not another story of a modern-day girl who ended up in a fictional tale. This is a story of a girl who sleeps - and dreams of reality. SebastianXOC. Post season2.
1. Prologue

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**CHIMERA**

_**[(n.) an illusion or fabrication of the mind; an unrealizable dream]**_

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"Evenin', doc."

"Good evening."

"Here to check up on C33 again?"

"As usual…How is she?"

"Still out cold, that's for sure."

"I meant her vitals."

The nurse tapped the end of her pen against the edge of the clipboard, clicking her tongue. She flipped several pages that were clamped on the board, her eyes lazily skimming through her sheets behind thick-framed, square glasses. Upon reaching the page she was looking for, she slapped the paper with the back of her hand to flatten the folds, before humming inquisitively while scanning the hand written words and numbers. "As stable as yesterday." She announced with her strong southern accent, and then covered that page with the rest that came before it, slapping at the top once again before handling it to the doctor who stood at the other side of the counter. Her eyes came to rest upon the gloved hand that grasped the clipboard while the man reviewed the morning's check up on said patient. She always found it strange for the doctor to be wearing surgical gloves all the time. He wasn't even one who specializes in surgery in the first place.

The doctor, after reading the notes, turned to a blank page and scribbled the date on one corner, _August 4, 2013_, followed by the time, and after that tucked the clipboard under his arm so he could adjust the lapels of the immaculate white lab coat. He nodded to the nurse behind the counter, muttering his polite thanks, before heading out through one of the halls.

Walking in the middle of the hall, his leather shoes tapped against the cold tiled floor and echoed back on the whitewash walls. A few people walked pass him, most were nurses, staff, and a few visitors, but most of the time the corridor was empty. Fluorescent lights that hung above every few steps were bright and only seemed to make the walls and floor even whiter. A few would fluctuate, blinking on and off quickly for a few seconds, the filaments of the bulbs having been strained from overused, and in the night time it would seem like a scene from a horror story, but it didn't quite bother or scare the doctor. He just kept walking, eyes straight and nonchalant, strutting with long legs, the black color of his slacks and shoes contrasting against all the white.

He knew the way like the back of his hand, because it has been the only way he had been walking through for the pass year since he first arrived (and quite mysteriously) in this hospital. Though having worked for that long, not many knew of him. All they knew is that he's a neurophysiologist, and that he was English. He works the nightshift a lot, but not many night shifters see him walk the halls except Hall C. Always going towards his only destination in the entire building.

It was the fifth to the last room before encountering another corner, but God knows whether he ever walked through that corner, because he stops, almost mechanically, in front of that door. "C33" hung on the top of the door's frame, embellished in a blue color against a white rectangular plaque. With a swift turn of the knob, the white hard plastic door opened and the doctor stepped in, shutting the door behind him shortly, the lock clicking.

Inside did not contrast much from outside: White walls, white tiles, white ceiling with a fluorescent light. There was a large window though, light blue curtains drawn down. A little gap between the curtains showed a moonless sky and the distant headlights of cars passing by.

The average-sized room had few furniture: A peach leather sofa in one side, a small table, a plastic chair by the iron bed's end table. A small TV hung on the top corner but was never turned on. There was a slender vase on the side table, empty. An IV drop hung on a stand, still full which meant that the last one just ran out and was replaced. A urine catheter hung below one side of the bed's frame, not even full. On the bed itself, was the doctor's patient. Lying in pressed sheets of pure white was a young woman – 19 years of age, according to her profile. Her birthday was in two days, the doctor noted.

Her obsidian hair had grown longer than when she first arrived, and they splayed out on her pillow neatly, a few strands settling on her shoulders. Her skin was pale, but not sickly, as there was still a faint flush of color. Lips, parted a bit, were naturally tinted like a rose. Her eye color has yet to be seen, her lids with long, curl lashes having covered them, but he knows of their color.

She didn't look sick at all. So why was she in the hospital?

Almost a year ago, this young lady announced that she was going to go to sleep early after dinner, and sleep she did. She never woke up since.

Doctors are baffled by her condition. She had no history of illnesses, no signs of disease, not even mental problems. Her vitals are always normal. She took no drugs, no overdose in sleeping pills. MRI scans suggest no major problems, but only a slower-than-normal brain function.

All they know is that she was in some sort of coma. A deep sleep.

The doctor took a recheck of her vitals, listening to her heartbeat through a stethoscope. Normal. Breathing rate. Normal. Temperature. Normal. Reflex. Still no response. He set his things aside and then studied the IV, making sure the fluid drops well. And when all was done, he stood still, looking down at his patient with a distant and sad gaze, hidden behind lose strands of dark bangs.

Settling himself on the chair, the doctor leaned down until his face was but a few inches from hers, close enough to admire her beauty, but he was actually watching intently at the subtle movements behind the thin skin of her eyelids. He then raised his hand and allowed his knuckles to gently graze her cheek, her warmth seeping through the glove.

He leaned forward a little more, his lips closer to her ear, to whisper softly.

"My lady, it's time to wake up."

The sound of the silky voice made her eyes flutter open, revealing two bleary orbs of brilliant amber.

She shifted in her thick sheets, turning away before the long, dark curtains where drawn back and the bright light of the morning sun filled the room with its glow. She moaned softly at the scent of tea, a hint of lemon in its fragrance. Her nose also detected the fresh scent of butter biscuits and berries, and it encourage her enough to raise herself from the canopied, queen-sized bed, forgetting not to lower the blanket from her chest as she was only wearing a thin slip.

She heard footsteps making her way towards her bed and turned, watching the dark figure approach her, his tall frame blocking the light of the sun from her eyes, the twin tails of his ebony coat fluttering behind him.

"For this morning I have prepared some Fortnum and Mason's Darjeeling tea," the dark-clad male said in a smooth mechanical but polite manner, approaching the cart to pick up to teapot and the matching china cup.

As he poured in the still steaming liquid while discussing the details about breakfast, the dark-haired woman was staring at the sophisticatedly decorated bedroom she was in with slight awe, as if she never seen this room before. With the back of her hand, she rubbed her eyes, blinked several times after that, and stared back at the room, her eyebrows furrowing a little.

"Is something the matter, mistress?" asked the male upon noticing her odd scrutiny of her surroundings.

Blinking herself back to focus, she turned to him. "Oh…it's nothing. I just…" she trailed off, thinking her next words properly, once again furrowing her eyes in deep contemplation. "It felt like…I didn't sleep here." She finally said in a low, whispered tone, turning to him.

"You were never in any other place while you slept, my lady. I can assure you of that. If I were to allow anyone to take you away while you sleep, then what kind of butler would I be?" He replied, the corners of his lips tugging up in a faint smirk, while his gloved hand pressed on his chest.

The female stared up at him with a blank gaze, interest now lost on the room and now at a pair of blood-red eyes. "You're not my butler." She suddenly said.

The male's smirk diminished, his hand lowering and returning to his side, his gaze steely. "It is still my duty to protect you." He replied simply, eyes closed.

"Of course…" the young lady whispered to herself. She threw off the covers from her and scooted from the middle of the bed, sitting on the edge, slender fair legs dangling, her toes grazing the red carpet, and then reached for the cup of tea that was left on her bedside table, next to the slender vase with a single red rose. "What…day is it today?" she felt compelled to ask as she stared at the ripples on her tea.

"It is Thursday."

"Date?"

"The fourth of August, 1899." He said as he walked towards a cushioned chair, lifting the cream-colored robe that hung from the back of the chair. "Pray tell, mistress, why you keep asking for the date every morning?"

She hummed, forehead creasing. _'My birthday's in two days,' _she realized while she raised a hand to her face, absentmindedly kneading her temple as if it suddenly hurt. "I just wanted to make sure." She looked up when the butler returned with the cotton and silk robe, and she allowed him to drape it over her shoulders, helping her arms pass through the sleeves.

"Sometimes, I feel like I've slept too long and missed a few days." She continued in a very low tone, close to a whisper. The butler glanced up at her, having heard those words, and for a moment she thought he felt his nails graze her bare shoulder through the fabric of his gloves, seemingly scratching at the lightly glowing blue pentacle resting there.

Then his gaze lowered, focused on strapping her robe. "I have prepared your dress for today. Will you be requiring my assistance in clothing you?" he asked, one knee still propped on the floor before her.

She shook her head, fighting the color to tint her cheeks. "No. There's no need."

"Very well."

The butler stood up and watched as she took a long sip of her tea. "My young master would like to have breakfast with you in the dining room." He announced in a flat tone, turning to tend with the tea cart.

"But he doesn't even eat," She said, her lips just a little away from the cups rim, "All he does is stare at me."

He stopped his ministrations and turned to her, staring at her with calculating eyes. A smirk made its way on his face, something rarely seen in the presence of his master but not to the mistress. "I'm sure my lord was just admiring his lady's beauty."

She frowned and huffed under her breath, lowering the now empty cup to its matching saucer. "He's admiring his food. That's for sure." She turned to him, and her frown lifted to a small smile. "You flatter me too much."

His smirk vanished at her first statement, but quickly hid it from her sight with a bow. He took the cup from her hands and set it back on the cart. "I shall excuse myself now so you may change." He bowed a little again after she nodded, and then turned to the door.

"By the way," She heard him say the very moment his hand held on the door knob.

"Good morning, Sebastian." She said with a small but bright smile.

Sebastian stared at that smile for a while, before replying with a failed mimic of that smile.

"Good morning, Lady Cybille."

And then he left, the door shutting behind him softly. The sound of the lock clicking seemed to echo louder than usual in her ears.

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_**N/A: So after the success of "Demons Fall First", I decided that it's by time I write a new fanfiction. Though for DFF fans, it doesn't mean I'm going to abandon the DFF one-shot collection "Spiraling Down". **_

_**I wanted to go for something new without doing another 'character-from-future-end-up-in-kuroshitsuji' fanfic, which this fandom already has a lot already. Instead, this is a story of a dream, of time, and of reality, and how these all warp and connect together.**_

_**This premiere chapter might be a bit confusing, because of the sudden change in time and setting, but that's part of the mystery. This is still the prologue. I'm not planning to make this a very long story, well, not as long as DFF, but long enough for a good read. And I did hope this first chapter captured you. Hopefully, this story will be as successful as Demons Fall First.**_

_**I can't assure of a weekly update, seeing that I'm a very busy person, and I still have my other story "Spiraling Down" to attend to, but I'll try to update as fast as I could. In the meantime, do tell me what you think of this prologue in your reviews. Don't forget to fav and follow as well.**_

_**Until then, have a pleasant something!**_

_-_ SafireLupe, 8-11-2013


	2. Chapter I

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**I**

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Cybille tilted her head, her amber eyes steely as she continue to stare at her reflection on the vanity mirror. She gazed at herself with scrutiny. Although the mirror portrays her exact likeness, as what the purpose of a mirror should be, she looked oddly _different_. It was as if the Cybille reflected on the surface of the glass was not her at all, but a different being that cloned everything about her, from the honey color of her skin, the soft curves of her features, to the last strand of her long, dark hair. She raised her hand slowly to her face, pressing the tips of her fingers on her cheek, and trailed them up and down, smoothing over the unblemished skin.

This she performs every day, usually after waking up and before going back to sleep – staring at herself in the mirror as if she just saw her reflection for the first time in a long time.

She eventually lowered her hand, resting her palm on the fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, releasing it in the form of a sigh. When her eyelids lifted, she no longer focused on her reflection and instead lands her gaze at the reflection of the black clad butler who stood behind her, his russet eyes looking down at her hair in his gloved hand as he ran a brush down.

"Your hair has gotten longer, my lady," she heard him say after he settled the brush down and reached for her floral pin on the vanity. "It lengthened fast since we first met."

That was close to a year ago. She hummed deeply, eyes narrowing just the slightest, as she recalled the memory of that fateful meeting. Cybille ran her fingers down the length of a strand of hair that settled on her shoulder, smoothened from Sebastian's fine brushing. Her thick but silky ebony hair was originally a few inches below her shoulder, but had now passed her bust line and almost reached her waist. "Yes, it has. I find it troubling sometimes whenever I do embroidery." She said in her soft tone.

The strand of hair fell from her fingers when Sebastian reached for it, a portion of her hair from behind so he could clamp it together. "Would you like for me to give your hair a trim later?" he suggested after fixing the hair clip, just in time before Cybille suddenly spun around, her amber orbs wide and her expression distressed.

"No!" She cried out, gripping on the back of the chair. Sebastian gave her a look of mild surprise, his dark eyebrows raised. Cybille's expression calmed and she looked away, gaze nostalgic, her lips curling downwards. "Only mother cuts my hair." She said in softer but sad tone, turning back to the mirror. She looked up, catching her reflection again, watching the sorrow flicker in her eyes for a moment before she glares slightly at herself. Her expression turned steely and she fixed her posture, looking more imposing than earlier. Sebastian noticed this and his face hardens, mildly impressed how the girl managed to build up her wall of reserve back up.

"I'll just have to cope with my hair until my time comes." She ended as she reached for the chain of a silver locket, clasping it at the back of her neck. The oval locket dangled and then rested on her chest.

Sebastian stepped back as the female stood from her chair. He motioned to the door. "Let's not keep my young master waiting. Shall we?" He said as he opened the door, allowing Cybille out of the bedroom before him. They walked the hall in silence, save for the sound of their shoes tapping against the floor. It was fairly dim in the house, due to the dark curtains that shielded the sunlight to pass through the windows. They were always down, as if people weren't allowed to have a glimpse inside the small mansion, as if there were anyone who'd be outside to try. The house was situated in a rural area, within a small estate, surrounded by luscious trees. The closest town was a two hour carriage ride away.

This was not her home, even though she had lived here for almost a year now. The place where she grew up was in a bustling town, filled with people and places. Her original home was small, but cozy enough to accommodate her well-to-do family consisting of herself, her mother, her year-older brother, and her grandmamma. Her father, a merchant, had passed when she was very young. Her mother raised them alone, but despite that, they all managed. Their small family would go out all the time, have picnics, see sights, shop for presents, or just enjoy nature itself. It was a fair and happy life.

But that life ended last year.

Now, she was rarely outside, and she could have sworn that her complexion had paled due to the lack of sunlight. Cybille felt like a caged bird, trapped within the confines of marble and concrete walls, in a house that was as dark and mysterious as its owner.

Sebastian led her down the single staircase, and then after a few steps, opened one of the dark mahogany doors that led to the dining room. Just like the short hallways of the house, the curtains of the windows in the room where down, except for one. The window in one side of the room had half of its curtains swept to the side; just enough to shed some much needed sunlight inside the gloomy room.

She halted by the door at the sight of a young male, not more than thirteen years of age, standing before the dining table. His single cobalt eye was icy, while the other was hidden behind a black eye patch. He stood with a regal bearing for a preteen, but his dark clothes and demeanor made him look far beyond his age. He turned to the door when it opened, and after taking a few step forward, he lowered to the floor, head down respectfully, a knee propped on the carpet, a black-tinted nailed hand pressed to his heart. "Lady Cybille," he said in a flat tone, before slowly rising up again, his earlier humbleness returning to aristocratic.

Cybille nodded reluctantly. "Good morning, Ciel." Her greeting was acknowledge by nothing except an indifferent stare, followed by a turn of the heel, as Ciel made his way to the single chair at one end of the dining table. Sebastian was already there, and the younger shot him the same blasé gaze before the butler bowed lightly, and then pulled the chair back for the navy haired boy. The dark-clad butler then pulled back another chair a ways from Ciel, and Cybille sat down. Her eyes immediately locked on the table setting before her, the plate filled with a good amount of food, the scent delicious. It was the only thing in the table's polished surface. Ciel had nothing prepared before him, and he just sat there, his elbows poised on the edge of the table, his fingers laced together. His single eye was shut solemnly. Cybille craned her neck around, finding Sebastian by the wall behind them, standing just between her and Ciel, his hands clasped behind him. He too had his eyes closed solemnly, patiently waiting a call upon his service.

The ebony haired girl turned back to her plate, and then picked up the utensil, slowly eating her breakfast. There was an awkward silence in the room, the clinking of the silver spoon and fork echoing within that silence. She was a little glad that Ciel wasn't staring at her this time, but still the whole atmosphere in the room was unnerving. She stopped eating when her breakfast was half-way done, and she settled the utensils on the edge of the plate. She stared hard on her reflection on the untarnished surface of the silver knife for a short moment, and then looked up, turning to the younger male.

"I want to go to the town." She said, almost boldly, breaking the silence that transpired in the room. Both males opened their eyes, their hard gazes focused on her.

Ciel raised his chin up a little, his blue eye scrutinizing her. "And what for, my lady?" he said indifferently.

"I'm out of threads…for needlework." She supplied, her tone lowering in audacity at the stare he was giving her. She loosened her fingers around the handle of the silverwares, and let them go before lowering her hands beneath the table, settling them on her lap. "I want to finish the handkerchief I've recently worked on." She added.

Still with the gaze, Ciel stared at her hard, assessing her excuse, before breaking his gaze from her to shut his eyes again. "Sebastian, provide her with the supplies she need." He ordered, but before the butler could respond, Cybille pressed on, her eyebrows furrowing.

"No. I'm looking for a specific color of threads. I want to pick them myself."

"Then provide Sebastian a list of these colors –"

"I said I _want_ to pick them myself." She said, in a more firm and demanding tone. All she wanted to get out of the house, just for a few hours. "And that's an _order._"

Ciel shot his eyes open again, a hint of irritation growing in his face. He was silent for a moment, slightly glaring at her. "Very well." He turned to Sebastian, who stepped forward, his expression blank. "Sebastian will go with you." He added.

A frowned suddenly formed in her face and she glared at Ciel. "Why does Sebastian have to come with me?"

The navy haired boy turned back to her. "It is unsafe for a lady to walk around town unescorted." He sat up straighter, more dignified, as he raised his interlaced hands up to his chin. "Sebastian will make sure you are well-protected."

Cybille rose to her feet suddenly, the chair screeching back. She glared at the younger with enough intensity as to make her amber eyes blaze in irritation. "That is supposed to be _your _responsibility." She muttered under her breath as she turned her heels, making her way out the dining room in a slight rush. Her heard footsteps resounded as she went up the stairs.

When the echo of her steps faded away, the room was silent again. The two males remained in their places, maintaining their positions as if they froze in time. Then Ciel gave a deep 'hmp'. He unlaced his fingers and leaned back on his chair, his hands dropping to the wooden arms. His lips tugged down in a small frown. "It was never my responsibility." He mumbled softly, almost whisper-like, but in the silence of the room and in the incredible hearing of butler, it was clear as day. He turned his hard gaze at Sebastian, who gazed back with his deep red eyes and an emotionless mask.

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"It feels good to be out." Cybille broke the silence of the carriage ride.

Sebastian shifted his attention from the fields behind the glass to find the young woman in front of him also staring out the window with a distant gaze. His mistress had rare eyes. It was a brilliant yellow, like that in the sap of maple trees or the sky at dawn. It had a distinct glassiness on the orbs, slightly able to reflect like a mirror. He could even see the passing of the sceneries outside by just staring intently at them.

But there was one thing he couldn't see. Like a true mirror, whose purpose is to reflect everything back, he is unable to see beyond the amber walls. The window to her soul was hidden behind a sheen of reverse fine glass. What a fascinating enigma.

Cybille turned to him, tearing her focus from the window when she noticed him staring. She shifted, a little uncomfortable of the calculating red gaze, but stared back hard nonetheless. For a while, they just stared at each other in silence. The coach continued to rock a little from the bumpy terrain of the land.

Once again, the girl opened her mouth to end the strange wave of stillness. "Is there something on my face, Sebastian?"

The butler only shook his head, lips close in a line, face blank. He stopped his staring and turned back to the window. Outside, the scenery has changed. From mountainous, green planes and meadows, it became dryer land, with small concrete houses in the distance. The road became less bumpy and smooth. Another carriage just passed them by, then a man riding a horse. A few people where walking.

He heard Cybille sigh in relief, thankful that they finally reached the entrance of the town after a long and distant travel. "I don't know why we have to live so far away," she said as she kept her eyes on the buildings and people, "Why can't we just find a house closer to town?"

"The young master prefers to stay in a quiet and isolated area," he replied in a smooth baritone, "He is not very fond of socializing with many people."

"Are all demons like that?" She asked with a tilt of her head, her curiosity evident in her tone, "Do you all prefer isolation?"

Sebastian's hard gaze soften just a little bit, and he allowed a ghost of a small smile to shape his lips. "No, my lady. There are demons who enjoy interacting and socializing with humans."

"So what about you?" Her question made him blink.

Sebastian seemed to ponder about this for a moment, his small smile gone, and then his soft gaze once again became steely. "I am what my young master wants me to be." He said, though with less zealousness.

The corners of her lips tugged down and her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she recalled how upset she was with the younger demon, but then she set the thoughts aside and looked up at the dark-haired demon, giving him a bright smile. "I think you're the type of demon who enjoys socializing with humans."

The butler tilted his head. "Why so, mistress?"

"You surely talk to me a lot."

The butler went silent, his expression suddenly emotionless. He closed his eyes and lowered his head just the slightest. "It is only natural for the butler to treat his young master's charge with hospitability." His plainly said statement wiped the smile from the girl's lips, and Cybille looked away, a little downhearted at the response.

The carriage suddenly came to a halt in front of a fabric shop. Sebastian, after noticing the dejected look on the mistress' face, opened the carriage door and stepped outside, he offered a hand for Cybille to take, and he helped her down the small steps of the coach.

Once outside, Cybille gazed at her surroundings with awe. This was actually the first time she came to the bustling town square. It was a different from Manchester, the place from where she grew up. She didn't know where she was now. Not one of the demons ever told her the exact location of the house they currently live in. All they ever told her was that she was in a place far from the home she had lost.

Her attention was called by Sebastian, who was leading her to the front of the fabric shop. Cybille blinked her eyes, blinking away the awe as well, and then turned around to follow him. She only took a few steps forward when she knocked into a passerby. The man stumbled a little from the light impact, his brown fedora hat tipping off his head and down the cobble stone.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She apologized quickly, stepping back once she regained her footing. She watched the man lowered to reach for his hat. "My apologies, it was my fault. I wasn't watching the road and –" She stopped her quick ranting when the man merely straightened, dusted his hat, place it back on his head, and then started walking off to the direction he was heading without sparing her a glance. Cybille blinked, dumbstruck, watching the man as he disappeared into the crowd of people. She tilted her head, forehead creasing. "How rude…" she muttered softly to herself.

"Mistress?" the sound of Sebastian's deep baritone voice broke her from her reverie and she turned to him. He was standing at the foot of the door, his head tilted and one dark eyebrow quirked, patiently waiting for her to cross the sidewalk. Cybille straightened, discarding her thoughts of the rude passerby and then moved forward to meet with the butler. Sebastian opened the door for her with a push of a single hand, the shop's door chime ringing. There were no other customers inside. The shop owner, a middle-aged but bald man, didn't even greet them, as he was engulfed in an article of in the news paper.

Like when she first stepped out the carriage, Cybille eyed the interior and supplies in the shop. Racks leaning against the walls where lined with thick rolls of different fabric, from plain cottons to linens with intricate designs. She walked closer to the shelves, peaking at the different buttons and pins in different baskets. Sebastian stayed behind by the door, seemingly surveying the area of the shop.

So Cybille stormed off through the shelves, which lined around like that in a library, except for fabric and sewing accessories. She glanced up and down, searching for the much needed supplies. She eventually located the shelf filled with different colored threads used for embroidery. Some were plain, solid colors. Others had a silky gleam or glitter under the light. She search shelf one-by-one grabbing for the colors that she wanted; Baby blue, three shades of green, carnation, pale yellow, two hues of pink, off-white.

All that's left on her list is a deep violet. She repeated her search, but was unable to locate the right color until she looked up. At the top most of the shelf was a ball of the right shade of violet. She raised her arm up, reaching for it, but the shelf was taller than her, even if she stood on her tip toes. She grunted softly as she tried to stretch her fingers in an attempt to reach, but still failed. She hummed, dropping her hands and planting them on her hips, huffing in irritation, and then she turned to the side, her sight on the store keeper.

"Excuse me," she called, stepping forward once. "Excuse me, sir?"

The bald man did not turn to her, his attention still on the newspaper. Cybille raised an eyebrow, and took one more close step. "Sir? Sir? Hello?" She called, a little louder, "Excuse me, but I need some help. I…I can't reach the…" she trailed off when the store keeper still did not respond to her, and only shifted in his seat, flipped a page, and continued to read.

Her patience wearing thin, she attempted to call him again, but was stopped by a large hand on her shoulder. The touched made her jump a little and Cybille whirled around, only to find the black-clad butler staring down at her. "Oh, Sebastian!" She cried, looking up at his face, until a realization hit her. "You're taller than me, Sebastian. You think you can reach for that ball up there?" She said, pointing up to the specific violet thread.

Sebastian followed the finger. "Of course." He said confidently, raising an arm up. It didn't take a lot of effort for him to reach the ball of thread. He held it on his gloved hand, and lowered it for her to see. "Is this all, my lady?"

Cybille nodded, smiling at him in appreciation. "Yes. Thank you, Sebastian. I think I've got everything I need." She said, balancing the other small balls of thread she cradled in one arm.

"Very well," Sebastian stepped forward and suddenly scooped all the threads in her hold. "I shall pay these for you, mistress." And before she could even protest, he walked pass her and made his way to the counter. She wanted to tell him about the shop keeper, suggesting that the old man must be deaf so as not be able to hear her. But, much to her surprise, the bald man actually lowered his newspaper and turned to Sebastian when he rang a bell on the desk. They began to speak animatedly. Cybille stared at them, puzzled. How come the store keeper turned his attention to Sebastian and not her?

Still confused and contemplating possible reasons, she turned away, but when she did, she was facing a full length mirror. Like her usual ritual at the start and end of a day, she stared at herself, only this time; she checked her reflection for anything wrong in her face – some sort of sign to explain the odd behavior of the man she bumped into earlier and the shop keeper. She stared long and hard, but still she could not see anything else except her reflection.

But wait, there was something…It wasn't on her person, but somewhere else.

She took a step forward to the mirror, and peered closely to the point that she had to squint her eyes. In the reflection behind her was the shop window, people were walking about in both sides of the road, minding their own business…

But there was a man, wearing dark robes and a top hat, standing at the other side of the road – a still figure within the crowd of walking men and women. She tilted her head and leaned her face closer to the surface of the mirror, and then the dark man raised a hand, opened his palm…and gave a cheery wave.

Cybille, curious, spun around, but her eyes only widened when she didn't see the dark-clad man at the other side of the street. Blinking thrice, she looked behind her again. The reflection of the mirror no longer showed the man. Furrowing her dark eye brows, she lowered her tense shoulders_,_ once again staring at herself in the mirror and wondering whether she was imagining thing. She closed her eyes, shook her head a little, and then turned away from the mirror, only to suddenly jump, yelping, at the sight of the butler suddenly in front of her.

"Sebastian! Stop popping out of nowhere!" she breathed out, planting a hand to her heart to still its frantic beating.

The raven-haired male raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, slightly amused at the girl's reaction. "Are you all right, mistress? You seemed oddly distracted today." He asked as he shifted the small paper bag containing the items brought in his arm.

Cybille took a glance at the side, finding the shop keeper was once again reading the paper, showing no sign that he even heard her yelp in surprise. She shook her head. "No…no, I'm quite fine…" she looked away, and in her peripheral vision she could see her and Sebastian's reflection on the mirror.

The demon butler hummed. "Well, it was quite a long trip to get here. You must be tired, my lady. Perhaps we should return to the mansion so you could rest." He said, leading her out the door, but Cybelle stopped herself with her heels, and turned to Sebastian after the shop door closed behind them.

"But we just arrived." She told him, "I want to have a look around." Despite the strange things she's been experiencing since her arrival in the town, she still didn't want to return to that barren place of a house, having to deal with the younger demon who was suppose to be in the place of the butler.

Sebastian gave her a steely look, and she saw a hint of impatience in his blood-red eyes. "The young master ordered me to only accompany you until you brought the necessary items you need, and then we must return immediately."

"Why do we have to hurry?" she asked, irritated, and then she slumped her shoulders. "I don't want to return there yet."

Sebastian could see plead in her amber eyes, and he stared at them for a short while before turning his attention to the carriage that was waiting for them. He place a hand at the small of her back as he walked forward, thus forcing her to move her feet. "I apologize, my lady. But we must not keep my lord waiting." He told her once after he opened the door and helped her up the coach. He gave her an apologetic smile when he hopped in himself and sat across her.

Cybille turned away and looked out the window, disappointment evident in her features, as she watched the town pass before her.

''''''''''''''''''''

"Did she find all she needed?"

"Yes. It wasn't much, young master."

"It doesn't matter. And did she notice?"

"She was slightly on edge, but she didn't appear too disturbed about it."

"Good. But still, don't make her too suspicious."

"Of course."

"You know what you are supposed to do."

"Yes, my Lord."

"I don't have to order you about it."

"Yes, my Lord."

''''''''''''''''''''

The door whined as it opened. Cybille looked up and then lowered her needlework when Sebastian entered with a lit candelabrum in his hand, adding more light to the room. He stepped forward, stopping a few feet next to where she sat by the window. "Are you not sleepy?" he asked in his polite baritone, and notice that she had tied her long black hair in a high and messy bun, though a few strands still fell on her shoulder and reached down her work, and she had to tuck it behind her ear all the time.

Cybille looked down again, picked up the needle and continued her embroidery. "I just want to finish this. I'm almost done." She replied, her amber eyes, which gleamed under the yellow light of the candles and the moonlight that passed through the window, were focused on the finishing pattern. Sebastian lowered the candelabrum he held and placed it on the table, next to the other one already in the room. Cybille paused for a moment to smile and nod at him, thankful for the added illumination.

For half an hour, Sebastian stood by her side as she performed her embroidery with careful hands. There was silence between them, but was comfortable.

The grandfather clock outside the room chimed twelve times, indicating that it was already midnight by the time she was done embroidering her signature. She sighs, relaxing her shoulders, smiling proudly. "Finish," she said, as she removed the circular holding frame and flattened the square handkerchief over her lap. She raised the lace-edged fabric towards the moonlight so she could see the details properly. Then she turned to Sebastian, who still waited by her side, and handed him her handiwork. "What do you think?"

He reached for it, and spread the fabric in his large hand so he could see the pattern of her design. In the center of the white square was an intricate pattern of curve, branching vines, in different shades of yellow. At each corner though, were cymes of five-lobed flowers, a calming baby blue color of its petals with yellow centers, and then surrounded by green leaves that trailed out into a half border. Lastly, in one corner, were letterings done in a script: '_C. A. Hallow' – _Cybille Anne Hollow. His gloved thumb traced her initials.

"It's a fine and beautiful piece of art. Excellently done, my lady." He praised. Cybille smilled sheepishly, turning away to hide a humble blush.

Sebastian continued to admire her work, and his eyes landed back on the flowers embroidered. "Ne m'oubliez pas." He muttered as he run his thumb on the silky blue petals. Cybille looked up at him curiously, blinking, not understanding. The demon butler caught the confusion in her eyes. "Forget-me-not's" he translated, making a mental note to teach the mistress French one day.

She blinked her wide amber eyes, now understanding. "Oh. Yes." she continued while she set aside her threads and needles back into their container. "There was a patch of those flowers back at home. Me and my brother used to water them every day when we were children." Her voice lowered, and she tried hard not to sound too sad, even though the demon could still hear it in the subtle changes of her tone.

Sebastian handed it back to her when she stood up, and he watched her stare at her work with a forlorn expression, before folding the handkerchief and settling it neatly on her desk. "It's late, mistress." He reminded her in a soft voice.

Cybille nodded, sighed, and walked towards her bed, loosening her bun on the way. Sebastian shut the curtains, then blew off all the candles from one candelabrum, while he lifted the other one. He followed her to the bed and then settled the light on her bedside while she slipped under the covers and laid her head on the pillow. "Sebastian," she called softly, turning to her side, facing him. "Demons don't sleep, right?"

"Sleep is a luxury for us." The demon replied as he helped her tuck into her covers.

"But Ciel sleeps a lot."

Sebastian looked down at her with his head tilted, wondering how she found out. "Yes, my young master likes to indulge in that luxury. The habit has not been lost from him yet."

She sighs, her eyelids starting to droop. "I wish I don't have to sleep." She whispered tiredly.

"Why would you ever think of something like that, mistress?" Sebastian's tone had lowered close to a whisper as well.

She shut her eyes. "Because I fear I will never wake up."

She couldn't see the hard gaze in the butler's russet eyes at that statement, or the way his face was suddenly stripped of emotion. When she reopened them, though half-lidded, Sebastian had softened his look. "Rest assured, my Lady. I will be here to wake you up." He whispered assuredly.

"Always?"

The russet-eyed demon spread a small, reassuring smile on his thin lips. "Always." He whispered.

Cybille smiled softly, before stifling a yawn. She snuggled closer to her pillow. "Good night, Sebastian."

Sebastian's steely gaze returned, and then he blew the lights off, engulfing her chamber in darkness.

But he did not leave yet. He stayed there by her side, still and silent, for around an hour, just looking down at her, making sure she was completely asleep. His eyes glowed red since the light disappeared. He bent down, a knee on the floor, and leaned closer to her face, to watch the subtle movements behind her close eyelid.

He raised his glove hand, and then gently trailed his knuckle down her cheek. His glowing red eyes softened. "Good night, Cybille."

That night, Cybille dreamed of her mother, holding scissors in one slender hand and a hair brush on the other. She dreamed she was cutting her hair like she usually did, and she could hear the snip-snapping sound of the scissors against her silky black locks. She thought she heard a door creak open, but she stayed asleep, dreaming of her smiling mother.

''''''''''''''''''''

"Mrs. Hallow?" Came a deep male voice after the hard-plastic door creaked opened.

A middle-aged woman looked up, halting from sweeping the chopped strands of black on the floor with a plastic broom and a pan. Her aged eyes, a light chestnut color, blinked at the newcomer, and then she smiled sweetly, accentuating the crows' feet at the corners of her eyes. "Doctor, it's been awhile." She said as she straightened.

"Yes, it has." The doctor stepped in, his clipboard in his arm. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hallow, but visiting hours are over." He smile apologetically.

"Oh dear, I must have been too preoccupied to notice the time," she said, planting a hand on her cheek. "Let me just finish cleaning up and I'll be off."

The doctor nodded, and while she was back to sweeping, he approached the bed. His patient was still comatose, no surprise there, but her obsidian hair was combed out from under her and was now lying on her chest. The length was now shorter, when it was reaching her waste yesterday, is now a few inches below her shoulder. The doctor eyed the hair brush and a pair of scissors that was left lying on the side of the bed. "You cut her hair." He said, more of a statement then a question.

His patient's mother was tipping the pan on a nearby trash bin, discarding the hair, and then left the broom and pan to lean on one corner of the room next to the adjoining comfort room. After that, she approached him, stopping by the bed to smooth her hand on her daughter's shortened hair, which was as dark as her mother's, although the latter already had a few gray strands on her pixie-hair. "Yes. Hair grows so fast. She always wants me to cut it for her. She didn't even want to have it cut in a salon." The woman chuckled fondly, but though she smiles, her eyes gleamed with sorrow and worry. "My darling Cybille would appreciate the trim. She finds having her hair too long annoying when doing embroidery…Oh! Have I shown you her work?" she didn't wait for him to respond, as she dug into her handbag in her excitement. She pulled out a folded white handkerchief and handed it to the doctor. He unfolded it and spread the lace-lined fabric in his gloved-hand. His eyes scanned the intricate yellow vines in the center and the blue five-lobed flowers in the corners. "Those are forget-me-nots," the mother explained when she notice his thumb brushing the blue petals. "She and her brother helped me water those flowers in our garden when they were younger." She sighed nostalgically.

The doctor's thumb brushed away from the petals and trailed on the scripted initials embellished in one corner: _C. A. Hallows._

"It's a fine and beautiful piece of art. Quite an excellent job." He praised as he handed her back the handkerchief.

The woman smiled sadly down at the embroidered work, before tucking it back inside her bag along with the scissors and hairbrush. "She had been working on a new one before she fell into this sleep." The mother said softly, hand still digging inside her bag. She pulled out another white, laced-line handkerchief, only this time, it was still lock in its round frame, and the embroidery needle was still connected to a thread. She allowed the doctor to see it. It was half done, but already portrayed half of a crow, with silky black thread as for the feathers, perched on an unfinished branch with unfinished red roses.

Instead of returning it inside her bag, she left it on the bedside table, and then trailed her hand down to smooth the girl's hair again. "Well, I'll be off then." She straightened and nodded to the doctor. She gave him a pleading gaze. "Please, do your best to cure my daughter."

The doctor gave her a softened look. "Rest assured, Mrs. Hallows. I will be here to wake her up…"

And when the woman left, he turned to his patient, standing by her side, still and silent, for what seemed like an hour.

"…Always." He whispered.

''''''''''''''''''''

_**N/A: **__This story was a lot harder to write than expected, as I'm still getting used to a new storyline other than DFF and SD. I'll be a little slower in updating this, since I'm still halfway done from finishing the plot outline, so as to make writing easier and with less problems._

_I hope this story's plot isn't very confusing for you all. I really thought hard on this and made sure it had enough logic in it. I probably have a few grammar mistakes today, as I don't have time to proofread due to a prior engagement. If you do notice, please, you don't have to tell me. I'll spot them eventually as I have a tendency to reread my stories several times a day, and if I have time, I'll edit them._

_Thanks to those who reviewed the prologue:__** Serah, MrsGooglyBear, Araiae4u, PikaChuttney, Duchess K, Transparent Mirror, **__and __**Paxloria. **__Immediately receiving 7 reviews in just the first chapter is quite an achievement. Most of those who reviewed, faved, and follow are no strangers to me, because they're fans of DFF and SD. So thanks guys for supporting my stories! I hope you all enjoyed today's chapter._

_For those of you who just tuned in and enjoyed as well, please do leave a review, fav and follow this story. Your strong support is the awesome light in my horrible, horrible light. I'll try and update as soon as the final touches of the story outline is done, so until then, have a pleasant something!_

_-_ SafireLupe, 8-17-2013


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